Hay, Bud!

Pullin' li'l blades o'the stuffins outta my hair an' ears an' mouth even, frumma siftin' haystax fer 'at nummer so's I'm 'bliged to ya fer relievin' me of 'at partic'ler a capation as 'at labor dint bear much fruit. I dint quite unnerstan 'at 'leventh 'mandment o'yers, but I'm a sure I will when the volvertu time comes. 'At wuz right kind o'youse, Bud darlin', ta point out m'free agency, but bein' the prof 'at I yam, I know where 'at line's a headed an'll take a pass if'n it's all the same t'you, sweet-heart. Not 'at I'm a not hearin' any overtures in the cacofunny, mind ya - n'fact 'at psycho artist slash heart surgin's bin a waitin' in the wings fer ages. Thotta feller of 'at organ repairman persuasion mite be jest wut the drrr ordered at one point er two er three (li'l joke, please disregard) but now it looks as tho his services won't be needed after all. Glad ta hear a li'l pure Deanie's yer cuppa joe, Bud darlin','cuz if'n ya thinks 'at's confusin', then thar's the one where I run off wit' a diff'rent Tony back ta Yale of all places! Bein' a farmin' man o'the soil soda speak, it cud be a mite less vexin' t'ya, but tendin' stables ain't my cuppa tea, so's stickin' wit' you, Bud, is more ta my likin' if'n ya dun mind, 'at is...

I used t'dream that I would discover
The perfect lover someday.
I knew I'd recognize him if ever
He came 'round my way.
I always used t'fancy then
He'd be one of the God-like kind of men
With a giant brain and a noble head
Like the heroes bold
In the books I've read
But along came Bud
Who's not the type at all, (who wants a giant head??)
You'd meet him on the street
And never notice him. (Well...)
His form and face,
His manly grace
Are jest the kind 'at you
Would find in a statue,
And I kin 'splain,
It's surely not jest his brain
That makes me thrill -
I love him 'cuz he's wunnerful,
Because he's just my Bud.
He isn't half as handsome (twice!)
As dozens of men 'at I know.
He isn't jest tall or straight or slim
And Ted or Jim dress far worse than him.
And I kin 'splain why he should be
Jest the one, one man in the world for me.
He's jest my Bud, a 'strordinary man,
He hasn't got a thing that I kint brag about.
And yet to be
Upon his knee
So comfy and roomy
Seems natchul t'me.
Oh, I kin 'splain,
It's surely not jest his brain
That makes my heart thump, thump, thump -
I love him because he's - I dunno...
Because he's just my Bud.

XOXOXOXO
Deanie